


Guilt

by owlmoose



Series: From Dust We Came [3]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Canon Scene, Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-26
Updated: 2012-08-26
Packaged: 2017-11-12 23:12:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/496721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlmoose/pseuds/owlmoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the Gauntlet, Kasia Brosca is forced to stop running from her past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guilt

Kasia didn’t know what she’d been expecting of the Guardian and his trials, but it sure wasn’t this. Exhausted from hours of fighting in the temple caverns, a quick and uneasy camp under the eyes of a dragon — even if it wasn’t the risen Andraste, it was impressive enough — his questions had left her reeling from an unexpected dose of guilt over leaving Rica behind. And angry: how dare ghost in a suit of rusty armor with no family to protect, no nobles after him, challenge her? It wasn’t like she’d had a choice. She hadn’t. She still didn’t.

But the nagging questions had settled in Kasia's heart, and they wouldn't go away. What if Rica hadn’t given her nobleman a son yet? She’d be out on her ear, and Jarvia would be out for her blood. Who would protect her? Mother? That was a laugh.

And next were the sodding riddles, which a duster who’d barely even heard of Andraste six months ago had no prayer of answering; after stumbling through the first two, she’d let Alistair take over, with a few contributions from Morrigan, who wasn’t raised in the Chantry either but was at least clever. Nobody said anything, but it made her feel angry and stupid, like she wasn’t cut out for this Warden business after all. All of which went a long way to explain why Kasia wasn’t in the best frame of mind for encountering Leske. Or his shade, or whatever he was. 

He smiled at her, with an expression she’d have called shy on almost anyone else. “Hi, Kas.”

She swallowed, a vain attempt to clear the lump in her throat. “Hey, Leske.” This couldn’t possibly be the real thing: Leske would never have looked at her like that, with such a tender expression in his eyes. No matter what she wanted, she was never anything more to him than another one of Beraht’s lackeys, someone to run errands and break kneecaps with. Rica’s little sister, at most. No, this was some fantasy of Leske, conjured up from her secret dreams, like Alistair and his perfect family in the Fade. Had to be.

His answering snort was derisive, much more like the Leske she had known. “Is that all you have to say? ‘Hey Leske’? How about ‘sorry I left you to dodge Jarvia all on your own’? She’s not exactly thrilled with me, you know.”

 _But you told me to go. You said I’d be crazy to pass up the opportunity. If you’d given me even a shard of a reason to stay…_ It all sounded like half-baked justifications now. “You know I didn’t really have a choice,” she said. 

“I know.” He lowered his eyes, then looked back at her, smiling again. “You’ve done good, and you’ll do even more. Show them what a duster can do, you hear? Here, take this. Maybe it’ll help.” He pressed something into her hand — it might have been an amulet, or a pin, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at anything besides his face. “You keep going, and don’t worry about old Leske. I can take care of myself.”

Before she could say another word, he was gone, vanished like the apparition he had to be… but then how could he have given her this token, touched her hand, come close enough that she could feel his breath on her face? Her fingers closed around Leske’s gift, and she closed her eyes, fighting back sudden tears. She missed him, and Rica, more than she had been willing to admit. Were they all right? Would she ever see them again?

“Hey.” The quiet, low voice came from behind; it was Alistair, and she heard him take a step closer to her. “You all right?”

A part of her wanted nothing more than to turn around, throw herself in his arms, and break down in tears. But that was impossible. She had made it impossible. So instead, she took a deep breath, nodded. “Yeah. Let’s just move on, okay?” And without waiting for a response, she pulled her daggers and moved into the next room. She would get the ashes and take care of Arl Eamon, and then she would go to Orzammar. It was time to go home, if anything was left of home for her there.


End file.
